


Fevered Dreams

by SometimesTheyWriteFanFics_9497



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged Up, Bob Grays a weird softy. . ., Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sad Bill Denbrough, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Smut, mentions of rape/non con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 21:56:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18126983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SometimesTheyWriteFanFics_9497/pseuds/SometimesTheyWriteFanFics_9497
Summary: Bill didn’t mind having a fever, if it meant that he could skip school for a few days, what he did mind was the dreams that always seemed to follow, the ones so vivid, felt so real, how could he be sure that they were just another dream.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please be kind, this is my first time lol

Bill woke up, his hair clinging to his brow. He felt weird. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why, other than something, somehow was severely off. It didn’t take long for him in his daze to realize that it was the headache, and the chest cold since he laid down for bed that had turned his brain and every cog within it feverish.  
  
He secretly wished he hadn’t had thrown up all the disgusting medicine his mom had forced upon him. An act of kindness he hadn’t in the least bit expected. Concern?  
  
He dismissed that idea.  
  
His room in the ethereal moonlight looked perfectly normal, nothing strange about it-except it was quieter than normal, Bill strained his ears and still couldn’t hear anything. He wheezed a couple more times before he caught the slightest hint of something off in the corner of the room. Yellow. He tilted his head slightly, poking his tongue out to lick his chapped lips.  
  
“Hu, hello?” he heard soft chuckling.  
  
“Hiya Billy~”  
  
Bill struggled to sit, then after a moment decided to continue laying. His heart hammered, though even then he knew he wasn’t scared or upset. Surprised. Confused. Mostly tired.  
  
“What are you doing in my bedroom?”  
  
The clown snorted at the boys question.  
“What do you want me to be doing in your bedroom~” the clown walked closer, tiny bells chiming, his tall slender figure nearly blotting out all the pale light from the window. “Or who?~”  
  
Bill shook his head and laughed nervously. He felt suddenly self-conscious. “What are you -talkin bout?” the boy yawned, then shook his head again. Though for all he knew he could have just simply moved his shoulders, he could hardly keep his eyes open after all. “Ga-get out of my room.”  
  
The clown moved Bill slightly so that he could sit down beside him, the bed creaked. The boy looked up, a little taken back, his eye lashes casting dangerously long spider webbed shadows down his ghost like skin. He looked small.  
  
“That hurts Billy~” the clown smiled with perfectly filed teeth. It wasn’t a nasty smile bill thought to himself, not sure if the fever had had any effect on how he saw it. His eyes were also blue now. He didn’t know when they had changed, or if it was important. “That really hurts considering I’m only here, since you wanted me here~”  
  
It took Bill a moment to register what was said to him. His face went flushed. It was like a hot rag was laid on his face. He had the vaguest fear that the clown could see it. “No I didn’t!” he tired to sit up again, though was met by a slender pale hand that slowly pushed him back down.  
Bill almost moaned at the coldness seeping in through his shirt. It felt nice compared to the acidic burning under his skin. The clown quirked up an eyebrow and smiled. Bill swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re saying?”  
  
It’s eyes turned yellow.  
  
It looked away for a second but it’s hand stayed firm against Bills chest, despite Bills on and off dislike. “You were calling for me Billy boy, in your sleep. I ignored it for a while,” it turned towards the boy, it’s eyes were blue again. “but then the smell got my favorable attention~”  
  
The boy didn’t have the chance to ask what he meant, or to be offended.  
  
“It’s a sweet smell, thick like gray water, thick like vines that grow through dead rotted things. I was curious. And you obviously had me on the mind. If you weren’t so boggled you wouldn’t admit that. You wouldn’t have asked for me~”  
  
The boy looked puzzled.  
  
“You can smell my fever?”  
  
“Yep~” it purred much to similar to a cat. “And I heard it, all eighteen of your cries.”  
  
Bill coughed, his throat feeling like sandpaper. When he stopped he realized he was being watched intently, and also the clown was nearly nose to nose with him. He did the only thing he could think to, he closed his eyes and tilted his face away. His every breath rattling in his lungs, like bones. Like laughing. “Is that true?” the clown purred again. “Maybe I was having a nightmare? Did you think of that?”  
  
“Nope~ I would have known~”  
  
Bill opened one eye. He still felt weird.  
  
The clown kept pulsing it’s hand, Bill considered it the same as what the neighbors cat did when ever he let it sit on his lap. Like kneeing dough. He sniffled, the clown stared at him with flat eyes.  
  
“I’m not going to hurt you.” It paused. “I won’t even play any games~ well not our more usual games anyhow~”  
  
“What do you mean?” Bill wished he could control his stutter, or at least the bipolar heat of his body. “I don’t know if I want to know...”  
  
The clown giggled. “If it’s how I look, I can change that easy enough~”  
  
It was no longer the clown leaning so close to him, at least in appearance. Bill nearly shrieked. It was a young man, probably in his twenties if he had to guess so, pale skin, much like the makeup usually adorned by the creature. Strong sharp cheekbones, and dark brown or black hair. Bill didn’t stop himself from thinking that he was terribly gorgeous once twice, maybe five times. Not more than ten.  
  
“I always give you the same sentiments~”  
  
For a second time Bill felt his skin catch on fire, he hadn’t realized he had talked out loud. It was to late, he was just too tired to feebly attempt to take it back. He discovered in his drunken fever he didn’t actually want to. His eyes still feeling heavy.  
At first he only registered the hand removing itself, his body ached at the loss, his chest heaved and he didn’t once stop and question his reaction.  
  
Only thing he was certain of was that even though he knew himself to still be in a daze, he didn’t feel quite as bad.  
  
He was in a way lifted.  
  
He was jolted from his train of thought. His hands held above his head while softly being squeezed at the wrists, the boy now straddling his hips, he hadn’t noticed the weight until just then, though it seemed obviously restrained considering that even still the clowns new form was much taller and well built than Bill was, even at sixteen where he found himself towering above most of his friends, he knew himself to be small, especially when compared so closely.  
  
“I don’t know if I want to play..” he tried to wiggle loose to no avail. The body above him moved slightly, just the right amount of pressure that before he could stop he heard himself moan. “I don’t know this- I don’t wan-“  
  
He was cut off by a pair of soft lips evenly engrossing his own. The cold spreading through the act was similar to before, a cold compress, like a much desired summer breeze. His heart hammered swiftly against his ribs, vibrating all the way through the young man above him, it purred taking encouragement to plunge its tongue into the split in the lips it had been studying.  
  
Bill gasped though couldn’t make a noise stronger than his off kilter breathing. All his pain and discomfort was gone, yet the haze remained in a way creating a sense of bliss. Floating.  
  
When his mouth was his own again he swallowed heavily trying to regain his composure, trying to get a grasp on all the exploding nerves. Sensations. The other hand meanwhile started rubbing half circles on his chest.  
  
“If you need a name to call out, it’s Gray~” the young man smiled playfully, his eyes studying every minor tidbit beneath him. “Not to be crass Billy but it would be awkward for the both of us, if you went on moaning ‘oh god’ every five seconds.” Gray winked, it was the first time Bill realized that the boy-Gray was actually making the effort to breathe. Look human. Something the clown never usually did. “Though, ‘oh god’ isn’t that far from the truth~”  
  
Nimbly Gray started unbuttoning Bills shirt, the process slow and dragging. Purposeful. The time had an off putting effect on the boy, quite the opposite of what both expected. The kiss was unannounced, surprising, and Bill had enjoyed that rather thoroughly. He craved it. Though now watching himself slowly be undressed, opened to display, that instead set something off.  
  
A dim spot in the back of his head, something that he couldn’t quite make out, other than how it absolutely terrified him.  
  
The boy screwed his eyes closed, his body shivering. Gray smiled at the small trimmers, he felt something a kinned to pride at how well it could give, when both wanted, that was until he actually looked up at the boy, the receiver. Bill. His heart was racing again. Waves of discomfort, panic, fear, fear not of Gray, nor the clown precisely, he understood that perfectly without guessing. It was something else…  
  
Someone else..  
  
“Shh,” Gray brought his forehead up to the boy, Bill's eyes still glued shut unable to see the two thin lines that weren’t this time perked at the ends. “It’s alright Billy. It’s alright, you don’t need to be upset.”  
  
He started sniffling and before he knew it his hands were no longer anchored down, not that it mattered since he didn’t bother to move them. It was unclear if he felt himself freed. He twitched and sniffled a little more then quietly began to cry. Both of Grays hands found themselves tangled, playing with Bills hair as he whispered over and over. “You’re safe here.”  
  
When bill finally opened his eyes he hiccuped, his face still glassy and red. He bit the inside of his lip again for the second time very much self-conscious. “I’m sor- I-umm don’t know what just happened.”  
  
Gray leaned forward and before Bill could get a good look at him hugged the boy, Bills face in the crock of his neck, he didn’t need him to see how his eyes changed to yellow orange, or how his teeth sharpened with a razor edge, it wasn’t Bills fault, the boy couldn’t know that in his panic, certain images, abstract feelings somehow bled through without words, things that Gray assumed even Bill didn’t know the meaning of, decidedly he couldn’t have, too old, to buried in the graveyard of his own subconscious to have context.  
  
Someone..  
  
They remained like that for a while, Gray bent over Bill, not once feeling silly about it. He was convinced the other had fallen asleep judging by the now smoothed whistle of his lungs and how otherwise motionless he became. He was alright with that. He looked up at the boys hands, not moved, still right where he had left them, hooked by a force no longer latched there.  
  
“Gray?”  
  
The aforementioned peered down with the beginnings of a smile. “Yeah Billy boy~”  
  
The boy wiggled closer, his eyes half lidded. “Did I miss anything?” for once Bill was too tired, too entranced by his fever to be a lick insecure. “Anything important.”  
  
Gray purred down. “Nope, not a thing~”  
  
Bill fell asleep and Gray left shortly later with intent to destroy further unease. For the taste of blood. Eradicate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry for the delay with the second chapter I had major writers block and I suck! But I’d like to thank everyone who’s read the story so far, you’ve been a inspiration to keep writing (:

Bill stumbled back into his bedroom, a gray T-shirt and a pair of camouflage sweats loosely fitted about his waist. His hair was still dripping wet, the smell of strawberry kiwi, his own personal hair care habits that he kept expertly hidden under the sink, just behind his Mom’s antique rollers and dryer. He was surprised how he had had enough energy to take a shower, find clothes, change, yet not enough to walk a measly twenty feet without shaking like a leaf, and or leaning against something for support.  
  
Everything hurt, especially his head, it was like somebody had taken a knife, one of those crazy ones he thought lazily that Tom and Jerry would use, and plunged it straight into his skull, right behind his eye and had left it there. It was like his brain was physically contracting.  
  
Squishing.  
  
The worst migraine of his life.  
  
He swallowed back the taste of toothpaste for the hundredth time. Wintergreen. He didn’t hate the flavor, normally he quite liked it especially in gum and old fashioned candies, the sort his grandparents use to buy, but it was different. Strong and oppressive. It was like a mouth full of how his Dad wore his aftershave. Intrusive. If it hadn’t of been there to cover up the waft of vomit it would have been nauseating, it would have caused him to run to the bathroom and exchange it for a mouth full of lava soap.  
  
He slipped back under the blankets. He smiled nearly perfectly cocooning himself in the delightfully trapped heat. It was comforting despite the image of a large and teritorial beast spinning him in its silk. He wagered he only had a good couple of minutes to enjoy before his body would ultimately catch itself on fire from the inside. He’d burn, than he’d freeze. The cycle would only repeat itself.  
  
Bill stared at the ceiling. Exhausted, pained, bored, all three if he could choose. The only thing that he could find the energy to think about was Gray, yes he reminded himself of the young man fervently. He felt good, weird yet good thinking about it, dwelling on it even if the slightest fear had like always found its shelter in the furthest corner of his head. The lackluster idea that perhaps it was simply nothing other than a feverish vision. Dream? He was almost scared.  
  
The ghost of lips traced the nap of his neck, cold and porcelain. Purposeful. He enjoyed it especially knowing he could blame his failing health on such ideas. He guessed it was what was normal for someone at his age bracket, and that anything contrary to that would be in the wrong.  
  
Bill scanned the room, his eyes lingering where the clown, Gray had appeared from. There wasn’t anything usual or even remotely there, except a brown box of old toys he was collecting for a yard sale the neighborhood held every year two weeks before summer. His lazy attempt at spending money when he wasn’t mowing lawns.  
  
He swallowed knowing that at one point all the losers knew about IT, whatever It was, but that over time it seemed they all forgot most everything except the most basic knowledge that IT lived in Derry’s sewer system and that adults were mostly oblivious to its antics. Lucky. It wasn’t all bad though, since it had saved Eddie from getting more than his arm broken by Henry and Patrick one day. According to Beverly it had killed her dad, that what happened had been no accident- he wasn’t a good man and she was happy to move with her aunt.  
  
Bill licked his lips ignoring the part of himself that reasoned, how the thing in his corner had just been something as ordinary as a box, and that the rest had been nothing more than dreaming-  
  
He pushed it away.  
  
Slowly he reached his hand down, resting at the strings of his sweats, and just stayed, without pressure, without moving. He didn’t like touching himself, he didn’t know how to explain it, other than that the moment where his body began to change, thirteen he believed it was, which he understood was normal, a lot of things were normal. Taught to spare confusion. It didn’t mean he had to like it. It didn’t feel normal. Intrusive-  
  
The door began to open, creaking like ice, a swings chain about to break, as one did to Eddie when they were still kids. He would always remember the cast, and what Greta had written on it. A noise shot out in his ears. It was him. He didn’t know if it was a gasp, a cry or a shriek, only that once he properly caught sight of who it was pushing their way into his room, that he understood how deers felt underneath brights. He jerked his hand onto his stomach. He was equal parts embarrassed and unsure. Mostly unsure.  
  
His mother walked in, a green tray of food in hand and a slight smile pursing her prim lips. It made him uncomfortable. Heavy. Knowing.  
  
He wondered how visible his movements had been to her. Had her smile held humor? It wasn’t as if he could declare his turmoil, that of which had stopped him before he had even started doing anything beyond pure imagining.  
  
“You feeling any better sweetie?” she said finally, her words soft and lace like. “You know I didn’t mean to scare you.”  
  
“I know ma, you just- you surprised me that’s all.” he stared at her for a moment caught somewhere half between accepting she was there, and also wondering why. She had brought him medicine the night before, he figured maybe she was coming down with the same thing he had. He contemplated his throwing up, his dry curtling cough, and the bone breaking heaving so bad it made it hard to breathe or keep his eyes open, not to mention the likelihood of her hearing any of it. “Yeah I’m doing better- I’m not hallucinating or anything from being sick, yeah so that’s a positive.”  
  
She scooted him over and as he sat up placed the food on his lap. She eyed him suspiciously, made a funny click noise then spoke with a slow draw. “You look really flushed.” she didn’t look bothered in the slightest despite her words. “And what do you mean by hallucinating? Was, is it that bad?”  
  
He nearly bit his spoon. Shouldn’t have answered, he chided himself, should have just nodded my head. He wasn’t going to tell her about any of it. His dream, that was completely out of the question. It was new, and it was completely his. Still he couldn’t say nothing, and he knew he wasn’t a good liar. “Had a really weird dream last night. It’s all kinda fuzzy now, but it was probably a weird side effect of all that medicine. Like getting hives or something.”  
  
She nodded.  
  
He swirled around the remaining soup, his mom going on about some exchange at the grocery store she had found funny. He hadn’t any more intention of eating. He watched as the alphabet smashed and tore apart like a game of hungry hungry hippos. It was fascinating while it was boring. He stopped suddenly, feverish again as he looked down, his brain slowly reading, then rereading for good measure. If he could trust himself, the soup had spelled out ‘Hiya Billy’ his mom noticed the look on his face, green on the gills, she took it from him before he could argue. She came back with a waste bucket and a glass of water.  
  
His mother checked on him twice more that he would later remember. A fuzzy, skewered recollection. Once tentatively placing a cold red rag on his forehead, she hummed what he believed to have been a Madonna song, holiday, and the second she simply brought him more Ibuprofen.  
  
He wondered vaguely if being sick was similar to being high or to being drunk. He didn’t have any real experience to draw from for either of his questions, though he couldn’t stop the comparison when every so often his own coughing and noises would sound so far away. Detached.  
  
He almost hated it.  
It appeared that night though as gray immediately and without hesitation. Bill lolled his head, blinked then offered a dizzied albeit absent smile. Easy. He didn’t have to think twice about it, no not when considering how the few moments he was conscious throughout the day, they were all consumed by the clown in one form or another. The kiss. The fever had very much resumed itself from the same since the night before.  
  
It seemed to be worse at night.  
  
“Hello Billy~” he greeted the young boy with both hands clasped neatly behind his back. His voice shiny like a bell. Friendly. “It’s good to see you. Hopefully you’re not as, spent?”  
  
The boy flushed pink. “I’m okay. Why weren’t you here when I woke up? I thought you would be.” the boy whispered with the slightest frown. Pout. Gray doubted that the boy understood just how powerful that could be. “Am I,, am I awake right now or am I obsessed?”  
  
Gray again moved the boy sitting as he did before, the bed whining beneath them. Laughing Bill imagined it. He looked down at the boy, his face soft and eyes scanning slowly, sweep by molasses sweep. “I had some unsavory business.” he wrinkled his nose almost like a rabbit. If Bill had to guess, it was done to make a giggle. “I’m here now anyways, no time like the present?~”  
  
“Ok then.” the boy wheezed then leaned in closer, much to Grays momentary surprise. He didn’t think much about it, his body simply doing what felt right. It was good to know he wasn’t alone, especially when there wasn’t usually a middle ground. “Okay.” he mumbled against the man's side. The feeling of it like opening a window. “when you were here last night-“ he paused looking up, though as no response was given he felt a door drop in his stomach. A piece of plastic wrapped in glass. “I wasn’t dreaming all of that? Was I?”  
  
Gray smiled at the boy, slow and almost sad, it was more human he considered than anything either of his parents normally ever did since his brother drowned when he was thirteen. “Not even remotely, oh it happened, but If you want it to be a dream, then yes, that’s all it really has to be.” Bill swallowed suddenly pained as Gray continued his face tight and grim. “I’m sorry if it’s all a little confusing right now. I’ll leave if you want me to. Admittedly though I don’t think that’s what either of us want, but it’s about what you say Bill, no one else ever has power on that.”  
  
The boy didn’t speak though quickly wrapped his wiry arms around the figure with haste. He shuddered at the idea of being left alone. He shuddered at the idea of what might happen if he wasn’t. Abandonment, versus anticipation he mused slightly, heavily concerned.  
  
Bill felt himself being straightened, again the sensation was distant, then being slowly covered by what took him a moment to realize was another body next to his. Held side by side. Spooned. His eyes jammed closed as a shade engrossed his face. He hadn’t wouldn’t fully understand just how his act had been seen, viewed two different ways, one as his objection to the man leaving, and the other as purely disoriented shivering, though in part it had been, yet again not entirely-  
  
“Do you mind~” Gray chuckled without real intention of moving. His lips pressed against the shell of the boys ear. “I could always find other things to busy myself with~”  
  
The boy sniffled. “This,” he leaned his head back, his skin standing on edge like he had done many times at the quarry. “I’m okay with this. It’s actually really nice, you know?”  
  
“Okay then, as you wish.”  
  
“Did you just seriously quote the Princess Bride on me?” Bill could hardly stop himself from laughing, or the smile. “That’s really lame.”  
  
“I’m not, nor ever will be ashamed, just so you know that.”  
  
Bill fell asleep while Gray hummed nonsensically.


	3. Chapter 3

It understood a lot of things, like why it had chosen to kill the man the moment he had left the boys side that first night-what it didn’t understand at the time was why it had felt the overwhelming need to appear as Gray, instead of as any other form to do so. 

It later believed that it had wanted the same hands that had held and caressed Bill to be covered in blood. Stained. Cleansed whilst the images still rippled, slow and present. In that way it wouldn't necessarily be Gray doing it, as much as a conduit, for the pain and betrayal.

It was selfish and for once in a terribly long time, Gray didn’t enjoy it.

It tasted like iron, slow and thinned by the black velvet haplessly hidden beneath the man's side of the bed. The orange comforter draped across the floor labeling it practically invisible. His wife even believed it not to be there. 

The TV in the bedroom was small and box like, old for even then, though it had been loud enough to dampen the gasp of surprise that had lasted hardly more than four seconds. Sharp and gaping like a fish with its head recently cut from the gills, neck broken by one opened bite, roughly the size of an outstretched hand. 

It regretted it immediately. The man should have suffered more, and nothing after that point would convince it otherwise.

It should have done more. 

The room looked like a masterpiece.

 

The next night Bill hadn’t yet awoken by time Gray appeared curtly as he liked, from the far corner by the window. If the man was to be honest, and he found no reason not to be, simply put, he couldn’t and simply wouldn’t help himself when it came to Bill. The moment he had seeped into the boys psyche, an accident by all means, one that he blamed on how absolutely unguarded the boys mind had found itself in his state, it was as if he'd always been there, and Gray didn't want to imagine what it might have been, if he hadn't have put himself into the position. Carefully he reached down, bending slightly and paused, unmoving, hand lingering at the raw heat still boiling from every layer of the young man. Every possible edge. It was like holding oneself above an open flame. A lit stove top. It was quite the difference compared to his own body, which was always cold.

He breathed, finding it easy to keep the habit even without the aid of an audience, then wiped away some of the few wet patches of hair crowning the boys features. Smooth. Beautiful and tired. He stayed like that towering above Bill, that of whom fidgeted, rattled in his blankets like a trapped animal, skin glistening, glowing as it cooked him alive, bit by bit.  
Gray caressed the boys cheek which to his quickly deadened amusement had startled a moan, one jolted from two slightly parted lips, though the man only frowned as the boy made no other signs of further awareness. The smell was just as sickly. Sweet. Acidic. Consuming.

Growing and robust. 

He didn’t like that.

Gray laid down with his head coiled against Bills chest. He stayed like that for hours, nestled like a child in the sweet care of its mother. immovable. 

Bill shifted, the hum in his against his ribs changed. Gray didn’t move at first, it wouldn't be the first time that the boy had slipped into a dream, he knew that well so instead he took around the room. Side to side. It was the first time he had noticed how utterly dark it was, the sky covered in thick black clouds, no moon tonight, hindering even the most trained of human sight, into what he assumed to be guesswork. Nothing. There was nothing to see.

“Gray?” he had little strength in his voice. His body trembling, shivering. It was remarkably human. “Is that you?”

“Yes Billy~” he purred content. He cared little about how much they'd be able to speak, it meant hardly a dime when knowing at least Bill would know he'd been there. “Who else would it be? Tell me and I could be them if you’d like. Whatever you’d like and that’s that.”  
Gray wondered for a moment whether or not his question was straight forward.

“You smell nice.” it was hardly a whisper. Something incredibly to thin. “Like sea salt, and dandelions, it’s dry, and it's strange. It’s nice.”

The man smiled, though within a moment something more related to concern blossomed lopsided in its head. The fever. The boy whimpered slightly as Gray moved, his position much similar to as it had been the first night when he leaned above. He blinked at the boy whose eyes couldn’t find anywhere perfect to linger in the dark. Lips moving without word. 

“I know you’re not feeling any better, are you? You can say it.” Gray mumbled mostly on deaf ears. He already knew better, it was mostly for himself he spoke, and for good measure just in case, Bill. “You’re still scolding to the touch. I suspect it probably started as-” he sniffed the air thoughtfully. “pneumonia.”

The heat radiated through the paper cotton of his shirt. He quivered at every quick gasp and or stalling of his lungs. It often came back and forth, for the boy when it would actually feel like he was indeed sick. “I’m not really sure, how I feel-I guess.” the boy giggled, sad, clearly given up on seeing Gray his eyes steadied themselves barely half lidded. “It’s just weird. Yeah okay that makes since, I must have gotten it from Georgie. That's what he had. . .”

Sudden grief. 

The child he had saved from drowning died in a hospital a year later, hooked to ivy like wires. Bill believed the reason he was lying in bed, alone and in the dark was because his parents didn't want the same for him.

“I can help.” Gray softly slid his hand against Bills stomach, choking down his hesitation by biting his own lip. He paid no heed to the blood, the sharp taste, even if it was unnatural, only wiping it away with his thumb as it dropped onto the boys cheek. “Make you float instead of drown, for awhile at least, until the worst of it's over.”

“Float.” Bill echoed suddenly very aware of how far away everything felt. “Like. . now?”

Gray didn’t take his eyes off of Bill for a single moment, it didn’t even matter if the other realized it in the dark. “Similar.” the man offered, touching in swirled patterns into the skin on his hip where his shirt had bawled up. “Just more. Imagine the cold resonating from off my hand onto your chest, but more even then. All encompassing. Anywhere you’d let me.”

The boy didn’t answer, though his heartbeat calmed as he stared up blindly.

“Would you like that?”

He shuddered beneath him.

“Bill?” Gray knitted his brow. He didn’t even bother to question the feeling that his own voice betrayed cowardly and without care. 

Fear. . .

“It feels,, like I can’t breathe.” Bill fluttered his lashes, haphazardly like a fish flopping out of water. His brows furrowed and his face over all soured. “I don’t wanna drown, Gray..”

The smell had gotten morbid.  


Gray had to stop himself from wanting to strangle the parents that with their limited time would so easily ignore their child. 

“Okay.” he peered down. “As you wish.”

The boy had the faintest desire to ask him why he decided to quote the princess bride. His mouth worked silently. Nothing came out.

“Because it’s fundamental Chivalry at its core. At its best~” he giggled arching his back and slowly removing the boys hands, and placing them at his sides. “It’s romantic, and it just so happens to be equally quotable even to one such as myself~”  


Bill gawked his mouth again. Suddenly it made more sense to how Gray should know certain things. Things that never even left his head let alone his m-

Gray snapped the boy out of his thought as he ran his nose across his collar bone. One hand lightly holding his wrists, and the other nimbly undoing his shirt, this time without the intentional dragging that had unfortunately derailed things before. Bill swallowed evenly, his body where ever touched raising with goose bumps. A cold flame. Tingling. It was entirely new in two ways, he couldn’t lie, and he was grateful he wasn’t asked about it. Bill Denbrough was a virgin.

The hands as well as everything stopped. 

“Oh,” Gray mumbled slowly, looking down at the blue eyes that still couldn’t see him. “I'm going to have to help you learn, how not to share somethings, aren't I. . .”


	4. Chapter 4

Gray pushed Bill down by the shoulders, he couldn’t remember whether it had been the third or fourth time the boy had unceremoniously tried to prop himself up to no avail, but it was easily becoming sort of a thing to look out for.

Gray couldn’t help the frown that cursed his lips each time.

“Darling Billy, you need not hoist yourself in that manner. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll do that”

“Please,” Bill whispered below his breath, low and willowy. “Please..” 

“Yes?” Gray leaned into the boys neck. “Yes Billy?” he repeated. 

“Don’t,” he closed his eyes. “don't let it stop.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

The man smiled at this, a tad confused admittedly. It was strange how quickly he knew himself to be utterly and entirely immersed in anything remotely, human. “Let what?” he took his time waiting by sprinkling the boys neck, talking against the skin when he wasn’t to busy or waiting for an answer. “You need to talk to me billy. Talk to me, if it’s important. How else will I know?”

Gray knew that Bill was at a standstill of sorts, though not once necessarily considered himself to be cruel per-say. The stench of honeysuckle and wet skin still burned, wafting in the air. Stinging. The boy was still ill, a temporary state for a mortal, though not entirely a safe one. He was feverish, and it had been that way for days, and if that wasn’t difficult enough simply put, the arousal of the whole situation made things twice as daunting for a boy that usually had issue with forming complete and whole sentences.

“I-I need. I’d like is-“ Bill whimpered open mouthed. “Please don’t stop touching me.”

Gray stayed still for to Bill what must have seemed only a moment, but to gray had been something closer to a daydream, endless. Still. The room was still swallowed in darkness, and in that black laid Bill, fragile, flushed, shirt fully opened and hanging about his shoulders. Tired. Weak, but not by nature. Gentle. His.

A touch of his hand and the boy would tremble, burst, a heightened euphoria. Cold, the boy had described it. Pulsing. It was true to an extent. What he was didn’t abide by normal anatomy even when in their shape, at least internally. Gray supposed in some odd sense that’s why he preferred the sewers. It was safe. Isolated. It didn’t have to share. It wasn’t in ITs nature.

He snaked his hand slowly despite the boys whining for anything other than patience into the the loosely fitting pajama pants. Blue and white striped. The feel of cotton, warm. 

“Gray!” it sounded warmly in the air, and doubly so when Bill laced his hand around the mans wrist. His eyes looking into his even in the dark. “Gray.”

It was strange the man noted in a millisecond how easily he wanted to lose all composer and do as wished. Willed. And to some extent he did he mused, at least hurrying with his hand, If only to ease the suffering of one, of many cries.

Bill completely jerked, his entire body tensed, and again gray stilled. He searched the boys face, that of whom were nervous, overwhelmed and trembling... No intrusive involuntary images though, just them, now, nothing old and disgusting, harmful. Just them. He decided to continue with mind to stop if anything else flashed in the open air, or if the boy said.

He rubbed his index slowly over the slit, staring, gleeful. It was strange, how everything Bill considered, felt washed in waves through the aforementioned boy, splashing onto gray. He’d never admittedly, at least in recent memory offered himself such situation. It was numbing. Tasty. Warm.

He picked up motion, up and down while occasionally giving a quick touch to the more sensitive tip. It ached. Bill did.

So little was enough, Gray mused, he truly hadn’t an idea. Virgin popped into his head, though Bill had practically forgotten by then.

He leaned more of his weight down on him, cushioning him to the blankets beneath whilst still keeping up the swift up and down. With every other up his hand was met with the surprisingly more brash tilt of the boys hips. He was panting, and each time it grew closer and closer together. Disjointed.

“Shush~”

It was like jumping into nothing. The release. A million little nothings. Bill couldn’t help the noise that bolted from his mouth, or the way his toes curled. The tender pulsing that was like something stopped contracting and absolutely let itself go at last as he thrusted mindlessly into the warm, soft hand, as the tendrils of breath ghosted his skin, and the weight shifted above making him even in his mind want more.

“Ohhh God!”

Bill laid shivering. Floating.

“Told you you’d call me that,” Gray slowed himself. “though that’s not when I thought you’d say it, hmm. If you liked that, well~”


End file.
